“Don’t pay no attention to him, Jack,” said Olga.
“Certainly not,” said Willoughby.
“All right, Spike,” said Flaherty, “I guess we’ve wasted enough time on these birds. Put the cuffs on him.”
Olga jumped up and made a grab for Rieger, but DeVoss caught her from the back and held her.
“You can’t do nothing that way, Olga,” he said, “you’ll just make it tough for Joe.”
Olga screamed with rage and kicked back at DeVoss.
“Ain’t dames awful?” said Flaherty.
Willoughby went over to Olga and tried to talk to her, but she continued to struggle. Rieger took out his handcuffs and walked over to Joe.
“Wait a minute,” said Joe, “you can’t put no bracelets on me. Where’s your warrant?”
Rieger took the warrant out of his pocket and handed it to Joe. Joe read it slowly, then, without comment, handed it back.
“Well, Joe,” said Flaherty.
Joe didn’t say anything; he just held out his wrists.
“What do they want you for, Joe?” cried Olga.
“Never mind,” said Joe, “they ain’t got no case.”
Olga stopped struggling.
“You mean it, Joe?”
“Sure,” said Joe, “they ain’t got no case at all. I’ll be out in twenty-four hours.”
“Shall I get my lawyer?” asked Willoughby.
“Ain’t much use,” said Joe.
DeVoss came over to Flaherty and said:
“Listen, Mr. Flaherty, take him out through the kitchen, can’t you? I can’t have cops coming in here pinching people.”
“You got a nerve,” said Flaherty; “why, I ought to pull you in for complicity. Didn’t you come back here and tip Joe off?”
DeVoss got pale.
“Honest to God, I didn’t tip him off. I just told him a couple of guys wanted to see him.”
“Pipe down,” said Flaherty. “Come on, Joe, let’s take a ride.” Joe’s face was ghastly, but he grinned.
“OK,” he said; “it’s the first ride I ever took with any of you birds.”
“Well, I hope it’s the last,” said Flaherty.
“Want me to come down and see you, Joe?” asked Olga.
“No,” said Joe.
They put Joe between two policemen in the back seat of the police car. Rieger and Flaherty sat in front. The traffic was light as it was nearly three o’clock in the morning. Rieger drove carelessly, one hand on the wheel most of the time, and talked to Flaherty.
“Boy,” said Joe, “that bird don’t care how he drives.”
“You ain’t got far to go,” said one of the policemen.
“No, but I ain’t sure of getting there.”
The policemen laughed.
“Say,” said Joe, “can I smoke?”
One of the policemen leaned forward.
“Say, chief, can this bird smoke?”
“No,” said Flaherty; “what the hell you think this is, Joe! Maybe we better pick up a couple of girls for you.”
The policemen laughed.
“Funny thing,” said Joe, “you know, Flaherty, a friend of mine told me the other day that he didn’t think you’d live long.”
“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “I know that friend of yours. He ain’t looking any too healthy himself.”
For as late as it was there was a good deal of activity at the station. A dozen plainclothes men were waiting in the big room, when they brought Joe in, and the Assistant County Prosecutor was standing at the desk talking to the sergeant.
“Looks like big doings,” said Joe.
“Shut up,” said Flaherty; “recess is over. You open your mouth again and I’ll close it for you.”
They took Joe up to the desk to book him.
“Well, you got him,” said the prosecutor, looking Joe over.
“Yeah, we got him,” said Flaherty. “Did you chase the newspaper guys?”
“Yeah,” said the prosecutor, “there won’t be no leaks to this.”
“OK,” said Flaherty.
The sergeant nodded to him.
“All right, chief.”
Flaherty took Joe by the arm.
“All right, Joe,” he said, “we’re gonna give you a nice little room.”
“With bath?” asked Joe.
“Listen, boy,” said Flaherty, “we’re gonna take all that smartness out of you.”
Joe didn’t say anything. He was trying to keep up his front until they locked him in the cell, but he was ready to drop. They had him; they sure to God had him.
The turnkey swung the big barrel door wide. Flaherty took Joe to the door of his cell, unlocked the handcuffs, and gave him a push.
“All right, boy,” he said, “I’ll be back later.”
“Listen, Flaherty,” said Joe, “can’t I even have a smoke?”
Flaherty laughed, motioned for the turnkey to lock the cell door, and disappeared down the corridor.
“Say, buddy,” said Joe to the turnkey, “can’t you get me a pack of cigarettes?”
“Nothing doing,” said the turnkey, “not for fifty bucks. I got strict orders on you, boy.”
The turnkey went away. Joe stood in the middle of his cell for a moment, then he climbed up on his bunk and looked out the window. Far away down a side street he saw a big electric sign: dancing.
Joe flung himself down on his bunk. They had him; they sure to God did.
“If I can only stick it out!” he said.
IV
Joe awoke from a doze and turned to look out the window. Still dark. He couldn’t have been asleep long. Wasn’t it ever going to get light! He got up and walked to the front of his cell. It wouldn’t be so bad if there were some other guys to talk to; but the cells on either side of him were vacant; also the ones across the corridor.
“They sure ain’t taking no chances with me,” said Joe.
He began to feel very uneasy. Something seemed to be dragging at his stomach and he had a rotten taste in his mouth.
“Some of that high-hat grub I et,” said Joe.
The turnkey came down the corridor and stopped in front of Joe’s cell.
“Say, buddy,” he said, “they’ll be wanting you up front pretty soon.”
“Yeah?” said Joe. “Listen, can’t you do me a favour and get me a pack of cigs. I got plenty of money. Ask the Sergeant.”
“Can’t cut it,” said the turnkey.
“What’s doing up front?” asked Joe.
“A show-up.”
“Yeah?” said Joe; then, “listen, I’ll give you a couple of bucks for some cigs.”
The turnkey laughed.
“Say, there’s a guy in eighteen that’d give me a hundred berries for some snow. Not a chance. They sure are putting
